


Falling Into the Night

by Tinerian



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Aromantic Batman, Asexual Batman, Body Horror, Crack Treated Seriously, Dreamscapes, Dreamsharing, Healing, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, INTENSE GRAPHIC EXTREAM BODY HORROR, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Polyamory, but also healing those issues, like so fuckin serious, lots of em - Freeform, references to childhood abuse/trauma, vaguely implied selfcest????
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:39:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinerian/pseuds/Tinerian
Summary: Read the tags. There is little violence and no graphic sex in this, but I really feel the baby-themed body horror warrants the Mature rating. The opening scene has the body horror dial set to a 3 and it will be cranked to 10 quite soon afterwards.I'll say this upfront: if you want a romance, you should probably look elsewhere. The romantic (well sorta romantic?) relationships are loving and tender, but not the focus. This is a deep and personally meaningful exploration of the role identity and relationships play in healing from childhood trauma. Because I am a Beast of Contradiction I decided to package this delicate and impactful topic in what may be the least dignified of all fic tropes: the Soulmate AU.Guaranteed to make sense when you read it or your money back.The warning tags above are for the main themes of the whole story. Warnings for individual chapters will be in the summary for each chapter.-----Jason Todd is the one true love of a newborn Eldritch Abomination.





	1. Sorry, Can't Come to the Emotional Phone Right Now, Too Much Anger, I'll Call You Back

A baby, swaddled in something blue. They would have been cute except for the fact that instead of eyes some one seemed to have drilled tiny holes out of their skull. Each one was slightly larger than their little eye sockets should have been. Jason thought that filling the holes with darkness would have been a mercy. As it was, he could see every bit of skull and viscera that lined the rough cut-outs. He knew at his very core that the baby was watching him. It seemed content, almost happy.

4-year-old Jason Todd woke up like a man being dragged behind a horse. He clutched, trembled, and cried until exhaustion brought him back to reluctant sleep. The baby wriggled in silent laughter when he returned.

\----

At 13 Jason was a proud grade C- delinquent hoodlum in an under-funded public school. He had all but begged Bruce to let him come here and not an upper crust private school. Way Jason saw it, schools weren't much more than brain washing, regardless of how rich they were. After all, why bother to re-educate when you could just "educate"? 

Besides, he figured that if he could only _barely_ get through a gala without committing arson, then spending every day with a bunch of snobs would drive him straight to supervillainy. So, during school he sat in desks and made them his by carving cool S marks and dicks into them, then he'd go home and learn calculus from an old textbook.

He was currently in health class doing his level best to tune out a slide show about "Soul Mates, and how to find them!! :D ". The font was inevitably comic sans. The colour scheme was obviously supposed to evoke thoughts of joy, but accomplished that about as well as a hamburger made with moose-shit. 

Jason absently mused, _"It's pink-on-yellow lies are hollow, and scorch the retinas of its audience."_ He filled that line away with all the other cool lines he would never write because dammit he was _not_ going to be some edgy emo loser who wrote angst poetry. It was bad enough that he lived with a guy who regularly got accused of being a vampire. 

There were always rumors surrounding their strange little family, and to be honest, Bruce deliberately cultivated a sort of urban legend status. The latest version of the vampire rumor held that Batman was using his dark powers to summon fiendish and colourful Imps. It was an unfortunately reasonable conclusion, all things considered. The batclan knew better of course, and so their hairbrained rumors were much more nuanced. Every member had long ago concluded that if _anyone_ around the manor was a vampire, it was Alfred Pennyworth.

Batwoman had tasked Jason specifically with gathering evidence of Alfred's true nature. He was pretty sure she didn't think there was anything to actually find. She was probably just using it as an exercise to hone his detective skills, but it was way more fun than reading endless cold case files, so he took it without complaining.

Speaking of that, he had heard Alfred and Batman talking the other day, Bruce had turned to him and said that, "It feels like we've always been old." And then Alfred made that funny little hmph sound of gentlemanly displeasure and replied, "Speak for yourself, Sir. I've always been a youthful man at heart." It was still only circumstantial _but-_

"Jason!"

"Huh, what?"

"Jason, can you tell us what this presentation was all about?"

Jason rolled his eyes and replied completely deadpan, "It said that we meet the person we're supposed to be with in super cool _totally cis-het_ dreams and if we ever look at anyone else the Devil will eat our slutty asses." 

He took a _very_ long smoke break on his way to the administrator's office.

Honestly, Jason already knew that thing slowly growing up in his dreams was his soulmate. It should have been some beautiful girl, or a handsome guy. Hell, why not opt for ultimate gay and give him a sweet non-binary partner? But noooo, apparently when you stare too long into the abyss, the abyss decides it wants a smooch. Or some-fuckin-thing.

It never seemed to really dream either. It just watched and stared and looked with its

empty gaping holes. 

Eventually, his smoke break took him all the way back to the manor. 

"Hey, how's it goin'?" Jason gave a wave to the butler as he strode across the hall. 

"Its a fine day Sir. I daresay you couldn't have picked better for your afternoon stroll. Though I must ask after your reasons for taking it when you _should_ have been in school."

"How do you _do that?!_ " He was certain he had been out of sight of the manor while he waited for the bus to roll by.

"I am the caretaker of three generations of over dedicated, self-taught ninjas, Master Jason. I have had no choice but to out-match my wards. Now, enough stalling. What happened?"

"The stupid fuuh-uurducken, presentation on soul mates kept rattling on about 'when a man meets a woman' or 'a woman meets a man' because, of course, the gays don't exist. And then it kept talking about how 'you don't want to be a used piece of gum for your soulmate' just blatant you are worth your chastity Bull Shit, all aimed at the girls of course, cuz all us men have that special license if ya know what I mean har har." He huffed out a sigh and dragged a hand across his face, "Its fu- screwed up and I told them so, and obviously I got sent to the Dean and I'll be damned if I have to try and defend my 'political correctness' to that piii-ugh." He shook his head shrugged, "Whatever, I don't want to talk about it anymore. Am I grounded or not?"

Alfred put his hand on Jason's shoulder and gave him the gentlest look his titanium reinforced upper lip allowed for. "You have a wonderful moral passion young Sir. Foul language, undignified as it may be, does not change the fact that you were only standing up for what is right. Go get some rest, dinner will be ready in a few hours, and you'll need your strength for tonight's patrol."

"Thanks, Alfred." 

"Of course, Master Jason." 

As he flopped down onto the comfiest couch in the living room, he thought of all the people he had known in the service industry. Of the way that money and obligation, with all the power it brings, had corrupted their relationships with employers. As he hovered on the edge of sleep, he briefly wished for Bruce's ignorance on the subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't express how incredibly JAZZED I am to be writing this. Unfortunately, I'm unsure what my update schedule will be like. Classes start in three days and I skip around between scenes a lot when writing so it's a little up in the air. This is not something I'm willing to abandon though, and I've already got 3,200+ words down.
> 
> Thank you for giving this crazy ass fic a shot. Kudos give me a headrush and I implode with happiness every time I get a comment. So, I make good practice for the whole 'kill em with kindness' thing.


	2. Tech Support, how may I help you? "Hi, uh, yeah, I think my baby is broken???"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on my Horror-Baby bullshit B)

Once again, Jason found himself in the dreamscape that held only him and his soulmate. The space held no indication that it was anything other than infinite empty void, but Jason knew, in the certainty of dreams, that it had a shifting, hidden geometry. One of the few constants was the distance between him and it. 

That distance was measured in: three small steps, five seconds of sprinting, one scream, four bouts of being dragged by the ankle as his mind fought between the standing dream and lying body. Two more small steps.

Maybe that meant something? Maybe it was bullshit.

He stayed still, and just stared into the nothingness. Looking into absolute blackness was much easier than looking at it. He could tell it wasn't a baby anymore. It just wore a baby's swaddle and skin and fat, and the head didn't fit right anymore, like the skull had just kept growing even though the rest of it stopped. 

The weird quirks of vision here didn't help either. The problem was, Jason and it weren't illuminated, or even glowing. They were just perfectly visible; utterly without shadow. The subtle wrongness of that just made everything worse.

Suddenly, every fiber of his being tried to pull itself inwards at the disgusting sound of fingers being bent until they snapped. That wasn't supposed to happen, it wasn't supposed to move, WHOSE FINGERS-

He whipped his head around to face his 'other half'.

The eyeless baby wearer had managed to pull its tiny arms out of the swaddling and was now moving them like a nefarious villain in a cartoon. It was still watching him. The little fingers crackled, bending right bending wrong *SNAP* bending right bending wrong *SNAP* out of sync and mesmerizing.

Jason screamed. It just seemed like the thing to do, really.

He watched, transfixed, as the fingers stopped, and its left hand reached over to the right fingers and tugged. The flesh slipped off smoothly, like a satin glove that was just a bit too big. There were no bones underneath. Only a loose structure of needles in almost the same shape one expects bones to be in.

Those needles looked so dainty. Pin, sewing, hypodermic, all moving with a grace that didn't fit. They were, of course, far, far too long to have fit in the little sleeves of its baby coat. With the very tips of the needles, it delicately pulled the flesh off its other arm. Same easy glide to remove; same needle bones beneath.

For the first time since it had appeared Jason felt it's gaze shift off of him to look at it's new hands. The relief of regaining some small privacy washed through him while the disorientation of losing a life-long constant punched him in the gut. He hardly noticed that it had lowered its fingers down to the surface of the dreamscape until it started moving towards him. 

It definitely wasn't _walking_ on its new fingers. It was more like the little baby body was a balloon bobbing on the end of needle covered strings. Rather than supporting its weight, the hands were tugging it along as they crawled across the floor.

As it began to explore the empty space anew, it seemed unable to decide whether it wanted to look at its novel and silvery limbs, or return to looking at Jason. This was obviously a time of wonder and excitement for it.

His last thought before waking up was, "It's like the world's most sick, fucked up chicken."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real short this time and low on dialog, but it felt like a natural break. Next time will include both Nightwing and the big bat cahoona (or, Bathoona, if you will) himself.


	3. Have you tried turning the baby off and then on again? "...Fuck you." Hey man, you're the one that called IT for medical help.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: descriptions of what violation feels like, not the process of being hurt, but rather the feeling that comes after it when triggered.
> 
> This is also significantly less edited than the last two, but I just need to stop working on this section :P the dialog kicked my ever loving ass!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author note: If you aren't already aware of Dick's troubled fashion past, please do yourself a favor and look up the Discowing suit. I took a few liberties with it here, but it really is Just That Extra.
> 
> I'm also going to start tagging warnings as appropriate in the summary for each chapter. I don't want to finagle the horrid mess that is the tags for this right now :/

He had to get that dream out of his head. Needed to speak it out of him, like vomiting. Alfred was busy with dinner, and Batman had never been one for touchy feely stuff. So, he went to find Dick.

"Oh geez, Little Wing, that sounds _awful!_ " He found him half dressed in his new Nightwing suit, mask off and hair down. Jason could see the concern etched across his face. "I had no idea you were going through stuff like that, why didn't you tell us sooner?"

_Because I knew you'd be like this._ Jason sighed and did his best to make it look like he thought Dick was overreacting, "What would you have even done about it? Huff fear gas behind a 7-Eleven at 3AM to fist fight God? I know we do some crazy shit, but that's just stupid."

Nightwing sighed and took on an exasperated tone, "Jay, that's not what I mean. I know you and Bruce think so, but not every problem has to be solved by kicking someone's teeth in." He let out a small huff as his frustration lost steam. He was starting to think that if this conversation kept going much longer, a blacksmith was going to hire them as human bellows, "Look, I know it's not the same. Mine usually aren't frightening like yours, but you aren't the only one with strange soul dreams." 

Jason looked at the most genuinely happy guy he had ever known with great skepticism, "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." He turned thoughtful, and ran his fingers through the portion of his hair that had grown out far passed the point of decency, "Well, my dreams… I don't even see anybody, to be honest. I just walk through this endless corridor of, like, spiritual funhouse mirrors."

"I'm sorry, a hallway full of _what?_ "

"Okay, so, every mirror is different, but they each show me a different aspect of myself. Like, one of my favorites -huge black mahogany thing with reflective brass- shows me my humor. They each take one part of me and center on that, while the rest of me ends up kinda distorted and small around the edges. Just like a funhouse mirror. I honestly keep expecting to find the door to the room where they keep the clown eggs, but I never do." He chuckled and gave a loose single shoulder shrug, "Married to the circus I guess."

_'Married to the Circus' my ass._ Although now that Jason thought about it… There really was no other explanation for someone who choose to frame his mullet in a popped collar, sequined lapels, and stitched on, yellow feather-boas.

"Wait, you said they were only _usually_ not fucked up."

"Yeah, it's really only scary when I get hurt. Some of the mirrors show me the wounds, kinda like x-ray vision, only in colour and looking mostly at muscle and blood as if the mirror was inside of me. It's super gross, but sometimes it's really useful too… Does that help?"

Jason swiped at his nose with his thumb, a habit he picked up after deciding that Bruce Lee was the coolest guy to ever walk the Earth, "Doesn't fix anything, but yeah a little. I guess-" 

He would have added more but Dick was already replying, "I'm glad to hear that, sometimes just knowing you're not alone can really help. I actual really think there's a lot more of us weird soul-dreamers out there than most people realize." His intense enthusiasm was gaining speed now, "You know what? We should start a support group. Or, or, maybe like a website? I dunno, even some sort of mail thing would be better than nothing, you know?"

He could tell Dick was entering "Flying Grayson's Manic Helper Panic" mode. Jason had officially christened the term after Dick went on a three-day helping bender trying to find the _exact right hair dye_ for some friend of a friend. After a million tests he ended up with ugly, frazzled, haphazard rainbow hair, and a _burning_ conviction that Manic Panic sold the ultimate hair dying experience. 

The friend of a friend had decided on Splat two days before this stunning revelation.

Jason tuned back into reality in time to hear Dick say, "In any case I really want you to know that we're here for you little bro."

"Dude, I'm not little. I'm like, twice as tall as you were." If he was being honest with himself, Jason would admit that this complaint had less to do with height, and a lot more to do with the fact that Dick used every conversation as a personal dramatic soliloquy.

"Aw, but you'll always be little wing to me!" He reached over to ruffle his hair.

Jason swatted at the offending arm, "Quit it, dickhead! And don't you fucking dare hug me!"

"Too late!" Nightwing briefly tried to sling his left arm around Jason but it got caught on part of his suit. Graceful as he was, Dick recovered quickly and managed to reel his little brother in with his right arm instead. 

Jason tensed up as though his skin was trying to pull him in and away from being touched. He knew Dick didn't want to hurt him, there was never a need for therapists with dolls. Dick just liked hugs. 

But the way Nightwing pressed up against him made Jason's soul sticky with fever sweat and nausea. He hated that feeling, was terrified of it really. It was a violent, clinging emotion, and in Jason's experience, the only effective way to say no was with a right hook.

Jason growled and shoved Dick off of himself harder than was necessary, "You're so fucking, arrrgh!" He absolutely refused to look back as he stomped off to find Batman. He didn't need a guilt trip from seeing Dick's face full of hurt and confusion.

\---------------------------

Bruce did what he does best: listen and analyze. 

"Jason, I'm no expert. I, personally, have never experienced soul dreams, nor do I expect to." Bruce delivered this groundbreaking news with the tone he reserved for the parts of his life that were unusual, but held little bearing on the mission, and were therefore inconsequential, "However, on occasion, I have had cause to look into the matter. What you're describing sounds like an extreme version of those who see soulmates that have already died."

"It… doesn't feel like that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it..." He stopped a moment and thought. That was the nice thing about talking to the brick wall with bat ears. Outside of the field, Bruce never tried to rush anyone's thought process. "I think calling whatever it is dead would be like calling the sun dead. Like, it's definitely not alive but it's still moving and you kinda have to have been _alive_ at some point in order to be dead. So, it's just kinda: There. Existing."

Batman pursed his lips with the unbridled intensity that came from attempting to conserve energy by eliminating all unnecessary gestures. Jason, who had never seen the man relax even once, figured that strategy was a bit counterproductive. After a moment Batman spoke again, "I understand that seeing this entity every night is obviously unpleasant, but do you feel threatened by it? Do you think it might hurt you?"

He sighed, "No. The damn thing's just fuck-"

"Language."

"Sorry. No. It's just that the gosh darned thingy-ma-doodle's too dang weird for this noggin."

Batman rubbed his temples, "Jason, it's _really_ not that hard to-. Look, just, get something to eat and meet back here in an hour. Hopefully a good patrol around the city will help."

Having his hair ruffled by Bruce was much better than dealing with Nightwing's hugs, but there was still something distinctly dissatisfying about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author note: Jason's conversation with Dick is an ode to the frothing anger I feel every time I see this fugly trope: "Cute extrovert disrespects the surly introvert's clearly stated personal boundaries to get them to cheer up! And it works!" It's an awful and unhealthy misconception about the way physical intimacy works and unfortunately, it has seeped into every facet of our lives. I HATE it.
> 
> On a lighter note: Aro-Ace Batman for Prezident 2k14, spread the word!


	4. Call an ambulance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This is the part where that there death happens. I don't describe his death, but the sort of afterlife he experiences is described. Also maggots. I based this off of a sort of dissociative state that I have experienced a few times, so if you might not want to read about that proceed with caution.

At 16 Jason was dealing with it. Every day was a high-octane slog through classes, and cases, and fights and training. This had been his life since the day he was adopted by batman for stealing the Batmobile's wheels. 

A lot of crazy shit had happened to him over the years. Countless Supervillains had been foiled. At least a dozen yelling matches between the various members of their family had be resolved, or at least put to the side. 

His soulmate had decided to unscrew its ears, and offer them to him as some sort of … Gift? He had utterly refused to touch the little ridged formaldehyde bottles full of floating sensory organs. On the upside though, that disgusting episode _did_ ensure that he passed his anatomy test the next day, and thwart a sonic based enemy the next week.

Things weren't good. The only reason he didn't claim to be constantly pushed out of his comfort zone, was that he had never found a place that actually gave him comfort. Every day ended with him collapsing into a puddle of raw shivering nerves, to recuperate just enough to do it all again the next day.

But he's getting decent enough grades now that he's ahead of his classes enough to skate by on high test-scores. He also hadn't gone hungry in years, and winters were now mitigated by thick sweaters and hot cocoa.

Things weren't good, but Jason begrudgingly categorized them as 'good enough'.

At 16, Jason died.

Jason was dead, and vaguely aware that at some point this would have alarmed him, but right then he had no opinion. All his senses seemed perfectly intact, although that was beginning to change. He could see and hear et.c. without much problem. It was just that none of it mattered.

He was entirely devoid of emotion. The world changed around him in the same way that static swims on a TV. Always moving devoid of meaning or purpose. Jason had never moved without purpose before, and he didn't start then.

On the autopsy table he found that pain was no longer a form of suffering. Jason had been taught his whole life to ignore pain, suppress it, move past it, accept it, cause it. In life those things were relevant, but afterwards it was different. Pain was another part of the static, indistinguishable. 

Jason expected there to be boredom. Boredom requires desire. He had no desire, so there was no boredom. Thinking was a meaningless task then. He stopped doing it so much.

Buried in a grave.

Eaten by maggots. The last thought he choose for a long time was, "I think this must be what reincarnation is."

The bottom falling out of the coffin as the corpse and his worms rolled down the steep cliffs of Earth's gravity well.   
They all slid to a stop in front of his soulmate.

The maggots were confused and frightened by its movements. Jason experienced it.

Eventually, or maybe immediately, the Universe cracked. The structure of space reversed. The pit they were in was now a mountain peak overlooking a blue marble at the bottom of a ravine.

His soulmate worked quickly. It gathered the maggots and sewed each one onto his bones and rotting flesh. One by squirming one, it bowed to each young life and added them to its soulmate's new body. When that task was done, it took each of Jason's fingertips into its mouth and when they were drawn out each was capped with a long, flat, sharp claw.

As soon as it they were satisfied with their work, they gave him a gentle push down the slope and waved goodbye.

At 16 Jason woke up screaming and clawed his way out of his own grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw yea Bs I'm back in black *obnoxious guitar riff*! Seriously tho I /have/ been working on this, up to 9,766 words :D on the rough draft anyways :P the next few chapters will likely come pretty fast, and they will be very heavy, so hold onto ur hats ;)


	5. Wow that ambulance got here late!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mental instability, more specifically intense descriptions of what mental instability can feel like. Fairly short though, only until the dotted line

At 16 years alive, 5 years dead and 7 days resurrected:

Jason, as the miasma of flickering colors each of us invokes when screaming. In the joints of his spine flowed the viscera of terror, the buzz saw grinding away, showing him visions of every pain that had or could happen to him. Assaulting him again, and again, forcing him to fight his way out of every worst-case scenario. There would always be another worst-case scenario.

A combatant approached the saws; Rage at the tender curve at the small of his back that tried to arch him back, back, back. He felt that if he did not wind his rage into a bullet then a body then a brain then a death and finally a safety, he would be bent by it until he snapped like a twig. 

He said he was sorry again and again. Sorry that he didn't love the thing that saved his life. Sorry that his vertebra had become all consuming. Sorry that he had no more room for anything else. Sorry that he wasn't really grateful for anything other than the chance for revenge.

In here he could see it clearly. The way that his body was a jar that shook and quivered as it tried to contain the thrashing weight of his emotions. 

`````````````````

He woke up to the sound of the nurse examining his vitals and recording in a wall mounted computer. He watched zir for a while and then looked down at his hands. What stared back at him were the shovel like claws that had allowed him to splinter wood and move earth far beyond what human flesh could have done. 

It was fucked up and inconvenient as Hell. Came back a monster with claws that wouldn't damn well stop growing. Had to beg a heavy duty file off of one of the janitors so he could grind them down every day. 

In all honesty though, it was the greatest comfort he had. A reminder that something or someone gave a damn. A last resort if attacked. A weight that kept him in the moment. A reminder that he was here and now.

He glanced up at the big cheery whiteboard that held his schedule and the nurse's name. "Good morning nurse Duke, how am I doing today? Cute ponytail by the way, you get a haircut?"

"An especially good _afternoon_ to you Mr. Jason because you," Ze gestured with a long blue acrylic nail, "are the first one to notice all day, and I've been here since five am!"

"What can I say? I'm naturally observant." So, sue him if his humor was a bit off, it had been a tough fucking week.

He got a baritone laugh in response anyways, "A regular Captain Obvious you are. Anyhow, I've got far more exciting news for you than my new doo. You're cleared for discharge today."

Relief and dread mixed across his face, "That's … Good. Am I free to just leave? Is Bruce gonna pick me up or-"

Duke held up a hand in a calming gesture, "Slow down there, look I know y'all got some fucked up shit going on, so I'm gonna give you some options and info here. Normally you would go back with your next of kin, or legal guardian. For whatever reason you don't currently _have_ an official next of kin, or designated guardian. Mr. Wayne was apparently moving slow on that paperwork beforehand, but is really throwing his money's weight behind it this time around. If I was going by custom, I'd have informed him about five hours ago and he would indeed be picking you up."

Jason gave zir a wary look, "Why didn't you?"

"Because a sixteen-year-old kid doesn't wake up from the dead, and then start acting like a visit from dad is worse than Hell unless something is _seriously_ wrong. I'm an old queer," ze pointed to zir wrinkles, "I know what familial abuse looks like, and I'm not about to send you away with some rich bitch you don't want to go with."

Jason sniffed hard and wiped at tears which were flowing for the first time since he was seven. He had to use his wrist due to the claws, but it felt good to finally break down a little, "Thank you Duke. Really. Though you better not go telling anyone I'm crying right now."

Ze gave him a soft, tight smile, "Honey, crying is beautiful, healing, and damn well private. Mums the word my friend."

"So, if I don't have anyone where am I gonna go? I mean, I've got places. I just, I don't even have clothes, no way in Hell I wanna walk there… will if I have too though."

"Well, I'm gonna make the obligatory offer to call Child Protective Services, but from the look on your face I think we both know how that would go. Social worker would look at the total lack of space in foster care, then glance at that man's bank account and put you right back with him." Ze shook zir head and sighed, "They do their best, but their best ain't always enough, let alone good. But onto my other offer. I can give you a place to stay for a while, with my sister. I already asked her, and she's fine with it, long as you're out within a year."

Jason gave a snort, "I can do that."

"I expect you can. I'm also going to give you my number. You need to talk to someone, you call. Got it?"

"Got it."

Ze smiled, "Then let's get you some pants, Jason."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duke's pronouns are actually my pronouns by the way :) ze/zir/zirself


	6. "Hey I saw a video of you at the party last night, what was that all about??"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: just the usual body horror, a little discussion of murder, and a lot of cussin'

The being was hanging from the ceiling. Some strange parody of gravity seemed to try and keep their swaddled torso at a certain fixed height. 

They pointed down at Jason without moving anything but a single finger from the floor-ceiling. The loose collection of needles made the same sound of breaking fingers as it jointed easily in the direction human fingers weren't supposed to go in. Jason had noticed that they seemed to point at what made them curious, "Why do you kill them?"

Jason paused sharpening his claws long enough to shoot his soulmate a peeved look, "Haven't you been staring at me long enough to know?"

"Of course not. Looking at you can only allow me -or anyone else for that matter- to imperfectly predict your behavior. I could guess what it is like to be you, and therefore what your reasons for killing are, but it would have little relation to the truth. I can only begin to understand your motives if you describe them to me."

He heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, "Because it's never going to end any other way! Guano-man's always screeching about 'second chances, second chances!' like he ever gives anyone other than the murderers an actual second chance. I steal tires just to stay alive? That deserves a lifelong sentence as a rich cunt's personal child soldier. Joker commits mass murder for the 30th time? Go to time out, ya naughty little clown!"

His rant stalled for a moment and he shook his head, scorn etched into his face, before another wave of words crashed over him, "No. No, Joker's had his fuckin' chances. The whole fuckin' lot of 'em have. I mean, yeah, _maybe_ they'll wake up one day and turn over that beautiful new leaf, but for fuck's sake it's just not worth waiting for that!" he chuckled in the manner of those both desperate, terrified, and hopeless, "None of them are gonna stop unless their dead, not Joker, not Harley, not Ivy, not the gangs, and not Bats either!" His voice grew quiet as he added, "I'm gonna stop it, because no one else has the balls to try."

The being turned their head gently back and forth, as though it's face was a bottle cap some absentminded drinker was fiddling with, "Thank you. I find your reasons convincing, although there are a few you intend to slaughter that do not seem to fit this category at all. Why is the third child included?"

"Does it bother you that I'm about to kill the Replacement?" This was half a rhetorical jab at his soulmate, and half a serious question. Jason did his best to keep track of their unique, inhuman expressions, but nuances often escaped him. In addition, their eternally sanguine voice had all the tonal range and beauty of a Gregorian chant, making it impossible to read their mood at times.

They allowed him to dodge their question. Their eyebrows, one of the only remaining facial features scrunched together, making them look thoughtful, "I think, that if you can look them in the eyes and know these things: 

"First, that any judgements about what they deserve are meaningless at that point. Second, that they are another fully sentient person with rational reasons for doing what they do. Third, that all malevolence comes from their own pain. Fourth, by killing them you are denying them all chance to heal, to change, to make themself and the world better. If you can know all these things even as you stare into their eyes, and slit their throat with your own hands, in cold blood… Then I suppose I have no objections."

````````````````````

Three months after he was discharged, Jason woke up naturally at his customary time of 06:30. He left a note for Duke's 'sister' (who had turned out to be the nun kind of sister rather than the sibling kind) explaining that he was leaving, and wouldn't be back for a long time. He considered leaving it at that, but decided to add a bit thanking her for her hospitality and stuck a $10 bill to it.

Then he gathered up his things and set out to conquer Crime Alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these next few chapters are going to feel disjointed. Promise I haven't skipped a chapter or anything, the upcoming strange cliffhanger will be resolved eventually ;)


	7. Dial Tone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence, fire, mental instability.

The building's on fire. The windows glow with fire. The streets are soaked in fire. Jason is burning. Maybe not his flesh, but he feels certain that the fire is consuming him too.

The only thing that it hasn't touched yet is Robin. 

That mound of colours is tied down and squirming. He sees the flesh around Robin's teeth move, and ignores how the air reacts. Jason is far past the point of mercy, they both know it. Still, as he snaps open the switchblade he's been saving for this moment, he begins to absentmindedly sing, 

"Vows are spoken, to be broken. Feelings are intense; Words are trivial. All I ever wanted, All I ever needed, is right here, in my arms…"

Jason gripped the Replacment's chin in one hand, and flicked his mask off with the other. So much white around those eyes, and how fast those teeth champ and stamp and plead. Jason brought the blade to Robin's throat. Like gripping the neck of a barbie doll in a pair of scissors.

Then he stopped.

He pulled away the knife, and unlocked the cuffs that held his victim helpless. He walked away.


	8. "Hey, I know it's been a long time, but I was wondering..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault by drugging, discussion of past drug abuse, none of this is graphic at all, and this chapter is pretty light in general :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was a doozy :) Aaaaannnd you will probably be yelling at your screen in a few minutes about "What happened??!!?!? Why the fuck is there a huge time skip?!?!?" 
> 
> Do not worry; do not adjust your screens. This is intentional. I promise it will all make sense later ;) *wonk*

At 19 Jason was a long way from all his former homes. In all honesty, this tropical island was probably the only thing that had ever felt like a _proper_ home. Gotham would always be one to him of course, but it was a home of obligation, the kind that you learn to simply accept because you just can't quite scrub it out of your bones. Kori's island on the other hand, was a one of choice.

Jason breathed deep and slow, filling his lungs with the beauty of the sunset that surrounded him and his partner, "Yo Roy, mind if I ask you something?"

"Go ahead Jaybird."

"Why don't you like Marilyn Manson anymore? You used to listen to his stuff all the fuckin' time. I remember the first solo stakeout we had back in the 'sidekicks with bad kicks' days you played one of his albums on repeat for like, 5 hours straight." 

"It's not that I don't like his stuff anymore, it's just that it resonated with me in a really big way when I was still a fucked-up mess trying to get clean. Now that I'm going steady with sobriety, listening to it kinda throws me back there. If hear one, especially that," 

He began to lightly sing the main chorus, and Jason silently noted he had a beautiful voice, " _'I don't like the drugs but the drugs like me'_ , one and those old feeling hit me like a brick. Then I've got this fuckin feeling brick in my hands, and I don't know what the hell to do with it, so I just stopped listening."

The mood of their stargazing shifted towards somber, but the ease of it remained. The ocean always seemed to keep the world at a safe distance. 

"That's a fuckin' weird ass analogy, and it actually makes a lot of sense. Also, I am so totally going to write the word 'FEELINGS' on a bunch of bricks and throw them at Ivy's face the next time I see her."

Arsenal paused a moment to run through his ever-growing, mental list of Jason's personal grudges, "Why _Ivy?_ "

"Sex pollen."

Roy pulled a face and let out a hiss, "Ya'know what? I'll help you paint the bricks. Maybe with a little nitroglycerine. Too many people sympathize with her because that shit mostly hits men and they just don't see it for the ultra-roophy that it actually is, and that is super fucked up."

"Abso-fuckin-lutely. Just cuz she's got some plant-hybrid sob story doesn't mean she can just take that out on random innocent people!"

Roy lazily raised his head to give his lover a curious look. Jason glanced over and sighed, "Yeah, yeah, I know I'm one to talk, but seriously. I'm out here every fucking day trying to fix shit and get unfuck-up-ed, whereas she? Is just wallowing in it, and dragging everyone else down with her."

Roy gracelessly allowed his head to fall back onto the sand, "That is an incredibly fair motherfucking point. I hate making those sorts of judgments just cuz I know that's what a lot of people said about me. Fuck ups like us have to _work_ to be real people in everyone else's eyes, ya know?"

"Ugh, wish I didn't." Jason punctuated his complaint by half heartedly flinging a beached shell in the Ocean's general direction. In return the shell gave him a face full of sand and instant regret. He sputtered and tried to scrape it out of his mouth and eyes.

Roy laughed at his plight, "Dude, what did you _think_ was gonna happen? Anyways, still doesn't mean they're entirely wrong though. Like it is not our fucking fault that the world and all the bastards in it decided to shit on us. No one should be giving us crap about that. But, yeah, we still have to stop ourselves from becoming one of those bastards."

Jason spat out the last of the sand and rested back onto his hands, "That or at least try to make up for all the bastarding we've done."

They sat together in silence for a little while after wards, watching the world turn away from the scorching sun, revealing all their distant siblings. 

Jason looked up at those stars and remembered his high school science class, where they taught him what he'd always been told. That the Sun was just a closer star. He hadn't been all that impressed with it then, but when he looked up now, he ached. The thought of every one of those points being just as intense as the one which blistered his skin in the day was utterly exhausting. 

Sometimes he felt that trying to rid the world of evil was like trying to extinguish the sun. That it would always grow back stronger, fight back harder, and going close to it would inevitably burn him. But the thought of nothing ever getting better, just a little farther away, was so devastatingly hopeless that there didn't seem to be any point if that was true.

He leaned over and gently smacked Roy's arm, "C'mon sleepy head, let's get inside before the crabs eat us alive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYE we've finally gotten to the good stuff! 
> 
> *Air horns* EMOTIONAL HEALING *John Cena theme blares as I dab into the stratosphere, thereby escaping the hordes of people demanding my death for making a Homestuck reference in the year 2019*
> 
> In all honesty we've gotten past a lot of the ugly stuff. This will be the tone of the rest of the fic just about. There will still be baby-body horror dream sequences, but we are mostly out of the graphic depictions of mental instability and trauma woods. 
> 
> Man we really need to rename this forest. I'm gonna call it the Pain Woods. Although I think that's just my golf persona :/
> 
> See y'all later


	9. "Hey! I'm glad to hear from you again, I know it's been a lot, but I'm still here to listen"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: none really. this is fluff my palz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unhallowed Fuck! I'm still alive and typin' my Broskadoskis! This chapter has been a long time comin my dear audience, we're up to 11,000+ words in the rough and I admit that progress has been slow. I've made massive strides in my healing and self care abilities which I am massively proud of. I don't regret the time I've taken for those endeavors but it has meant that I've been putting this project on the side lines for a hot minute. I think I'm back tho, got my sea legs again and I'm ready to rumble, just not sure what direction exactly I feel like rumblin in. I ain't about to abandon this fic tho :3

Roy was lying between Starfire and Jason. He had always appreciated being 'the ham in the sandwich' as he put it. Jason was still asleep, but he and Koriand'r had been awake for a while, talking softly with each other.

"Alright Kori, I've talked a bit about my soulmate tragedy, and Jay has complained about his more than enough times for us to get the general grizzly picture, you mind telling me and the bump on the log over here what yours are like?" 

Koriand'r let her eyes slip closed as she considered, "I'm not quite sure how to translate it. We -Tameranians that is- don't dream the way that humans tend to. Our sleep is filled with the churning shards of our old memories being combined and reexperienced in new ways each night."

Roy's face was full of the curious smile he got whenever he had found new knowledge and new joy all in the same direction. She loved that smile for all the happiness that brimmed in it, and she sometimes feared it too. It might mean he was in the mood to pry at all the parts of herself that ought not to be pried at yet.

He asked, "So, you don't have souldreams? Does that mean you don't have soulmates at all, or do you find them some other way?"

"We have holse'yr. It means soul threads, or perhaps spirit bonds. As I said, the words for what we experience do not translate well. Each of us is born with a finite amount of holse'yr. In certain kinds of ritual meditation, we can see the Toulsite -the spiritual, uh, attachment point I suppose- of those we are most closely related to by the forces of the Universe. Fate, emotion, power, these sorts of things can bring two people's Toulsite close enough to see. Then, each Tameranian has the option to bind however much of their holse'yr as they feel appropriate."

"What happens when you run out? Can you just not love any more people?"

Her mass of hair moved in waves as she gently shook her head, "No, of course not. Just as humans love more than just their soulmates, Tamaranians can love people they have not bound in holse'yr. Unlike soulmates it also does not always mean love either. Many rivals have been tightly bound in threads of rage. Being unbound simply means that there are fewer forces keeping them together. Only a very strong force can separate those who are bound by holse'yr."

"That's really cool!" Roy looked thoughtful and then asked, "Can you ever lose holse'yr? Like forever?"

She hesitated then, deliberating on whether this was a wound that needed to be aired out or bandaged tighter. After a moment, "Yes. It is very, very rare, but if two who are bound have their Toulsite drift farther than they can reach, then their holse'yr are lost until one of them dies." She took a melancholy pause then, "Most of mine are lost this way."

Roy gave her shoulder an awkward affectionate squeeze, "That sucks. I'm shit at comforting but I really do sympathize, and hey! You've got us now," a quick kiss on the forehead, "and at least you don’t all dream of horrifying baby things."

Jason's responding complaint was mumbled through a mouth full of just woken up, "Hey, quit dissin' people's soulmates… 's rude."

Roy awkwardly leaned over and placed an affectionate smooch on Jason's temple, just under the white streak, "Is this like the thing where only the older sibling gets to pick on their brother? Because I know I've heard you call them worse. Also: Good morning!"

"I, too, wish this morning finds you well." Koriand'r greeted softly as she reached across Roy to brush off a leaf that had somehow plastered itself to Jason's cheek as they slept. As she did so a slight breeze drifted in through the open window, moving her hair to drift and then settle over her companions.

Koriand'r's long, tight curls always felt warm, and moved in a weightless way through imaginary currents. It was as though she carried so much raw, powerful, life within her that being still was simply impossible. It struck most humans as contradictory that her personality resembled water so much more than fire.

Jason carefully took her hand in his own clawed one, and lightly kissed her palm. He then returned Roy's earlier kiss, and grumbled in a much more alert tone, "We have _got_ to stop leaving that window open at night. I swear, one day we're gonna wake up to a bed full of wild parakeets."

Roy grinned like an imp, "I'm alright with that as long as they aren't horrible grumps before their morning tea like you are!"

Kori covered her mouth giggling, and Jason gave Roy a playful shove, "Well, as long as they don't blow our budget every month on 'nuclear toaster-ovens' from craigslist, I'm alright with them too!"

"Ugh, you got me there, babe. But I swear this one looks legit!"

"No, it doesn't! You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because it's an ad for a _nuclear toaster-oven_ ya fuckin' goon! No one makes those!"

Kori piped in, "Well, the servants had three in every kitchen when I was on Tameran." 

Jason shot her a half-hearted glare in retaliation for her backing Roy, "Okay, only Tameranians make those, so unless Kori here has been selling the kitchen appliances behind our backs…"

She pretended to look offended and batted her eyelashes, "How dare you, I would never steal from my own kitchen!" 

"Exactly. See, Roy? You're just singlehandedly supporting a niche scam economy!"

Roy sighed dramatically, "Fine! Fine. I'll stop trying to make nuclear toaster-oven bombs a thing." 

"Finally!" 

"But I've found this really cool looking laser powered, self-heating shower head on the Best Buy catalogue…" Roy rebutted with a shit-eating grin stretched across his face.

Jason collapsed onto Roy's chest from laughing, "I love you, ya super-genius dumb bitch."

After a few minutes of just resting in each other's presence Kori asked, "May we return to our earlier topic?"

"Which one? Tameranian engineering, or soul dreams?" Roy requested.

"Soul dreams. Jason, you seem so much happier with your mate lately, and I'd like to know what they've done to please you." Jason searched her voice for judgement every time she asked him these kinds of personal questions, and he never found any. 

"Well, it's kinda hard to explain." Jason searched the middle distance for the right words, "They look at me like I'm empty."

Roy gave him an incredulous look and started to say, "That doesn't seem like a good thing.." and Koriand'r reached over to boop him on the nose, "Hush and let Jason explain!"

"I mean it like they see me as a blank slate. Even after all these years, like, they've known me practically since _I've_ known me and they still look at me like I could be or do anything. My past just doesn't mean that much to them, like I could wake up tomorrow, change my name to Jasmine Floritits and sing Disco in Vegas," here Jason gave a chuckle at his own joke, "and they wouldn't see it as anything other than a natural choice I could make."

Jason's expression had gone uncharacteristically tender. The way his eyebrows were drawn together, and the shape of his smile, plainly reflected the fact that he was a being who was profoundly unused to joy and in awe of its current abundance, "They look at me like my life, my personality, is an empty room, and they're just... _happy_ to watch me fill it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I showed this to my dad and he called Roy+Kori+Jason friends. Like, in a completely no romo sort of way, does it come off like that??? I am I so Aromantic that my character's romantic relationships don't seem romantic even when they are kissing and in the same muther fuggin bed?!?! How much more tenderness do y'all need!!!?!
> 
> Any who, It's Damned good to be back on this bullshit, I hope some of y'all are repeat customers, and even tho this fic has a very low hit to kudos ratio I'm still immensely proud of myself for getting it all down and out here :3 I dunno if I've said it before, but I think my highest hope for this fic is that it will be able to resonate and teach someone else a bit of what I've learned in my process of healing <3 good luck, good night, and unhowdy to all you motherly fuckers out in cyber space :3


	10. "Hey, so I know we're related uh somehow, and I'm sorta excommunicated by the family but I don't want to let it all go just yet, so could you just let me know how mum's doing?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Responsible and safe consumption of alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have good news and bad news folks: good news is this chapter :D

At 23, Jason is meeting clandestinely with Oracle for the third time since his retreat to the island. 

He decided early on that if he ever wanted to integrate back into Gotham peacefully, he would need Barbra's backing and then Alfred's in turn. Both of them had so many strings to pull that they could likely orchestrate the downfall of almost any organization. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to butt heads with the whole clan just yet, but he felt his old haunts calling to him. He was going to go back eventually, and was determined to ensure he had a place there when he did.

Oracle had requested that they meet at an old liquor store way out at the edge of town where the land was polluted enough that the space couldn't attract any suburbanites. The sign above the door said: ***Bill Do'Dog's Barrel of Booze and Chalk Acupuncture! Guaranteed to Solve Your Every Ill or Get You Drunk Enough Not to Care!!***

Jason had absolutely no idea what Barbra was doing here, and he was a little nervous about the fact that she was already 5 minutes late. Although that wasn't much by ordinary standards, to Jason it meant that she was late enough to possibly be in trouble, but not really late enough to do anything about it. He stubbornly tried to soothe and silence the part of him that worried this was a trap. 

At least the various labels on the drinks were weird enough to make the wait entertaining.

He was just about to break down and ask the guy at the counter what the Hell was up with the ink-black drink labeled "SALT" (quote marks included) when a door at the back clanged open. Barbra rolled out of the doorway saying… something to a non-descript person behind her. Odd that he couldn't hear her in such a small room. Could have just been bad acoustics, but more likely something was deliberately obscuring sounds.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. If she was here it either wasn't a trap or they'd face it together. 

Doing his best to ignore his earlier suspicions and the weirdness of the whole place, Jason waved to her, "Hey Babs, long time no see."

She smiled up at him and rolled over, "Ah, there you are! Sorry that took longer than I thought it would. Find anything edible while I was in the back?"

He turned judgmental eyes to the shelf he had been scrutinizing, "Uh, technically salt is normally edible, but I'm not too sure I want to drink," he gestured warily at the shelf, "That."

She gave him a curious look, "Salt? Wha- oh. Oh dear. Yeah, I'm not gonna risk that either. Ummm, oh! Down here, Root Booze is pretty good. It's basically just root beer but with real beer."

"That actually sounds reasonable. Although, I'm a little, ok scratch tha; I'm _very_ concerned by the fact that those are right next to a canned Bloody Mary with the subtitle 'made with 90% real mirrors.'"

She waved a dismissive hand at him, "Don't be a baby! I've had this before and it tasted great. Besides it has the H stamp: verified human safe!"

"Oh, well if it has _the stamp_ ," He muttered sarcastically, "I can pay like, US currency for this shit, right? Because I don't have fuckin Fae coins or whatever the Hell. Or a license, not that I'm legal to buy anyway."

"They take normal money here, and besides I'm paying. Would be awful rude of me to invite you here and not cover the drinks." She gave him a confused look, “Wait, why wouldn't you be legal to buy?"

"Because I'm not old enough—Oh fuck I'm 23!" He dragged an embarrassed, armored hand over his face. Oracle just laughed until Jason put up his hands in mock surrender, "Okay. Whatever. Let's just buy this shit and drink it!"

``````````````````````````

There is a phase of boredom which compels mortal beings to endlessly stack nearby small objects with Sisyphean determination. The tall, mangy, pimple faced clerk behind the counter at the front of Bill Do'Dog's had been in this deep trancelike state for hours. The beginning of her shift started with bottlecaps and take-one-leave-one pennies, then slowly progressed to the ominous dice and jelly bean tower stage.

As the pair moseyed their way up to the counter, she straightened with the quick enthusiasm of those who despise their jobs, yet know that the alternative is worse. Her grin seemed more like a novelty dog muzzle than a facial expression, "Hi and welcome to Bill Do'Dog's: this realm's premier provider of charmingly cheap solutions and solutions!"

"Just these please." Oracle passed the root booze up to Jason who in turn placed it on top of the weirdly high counter.

"Alright! Your total is four dollars and forty-four cents and 4 half pennies!" Jason decided that the glassy, spite filled look in her beautiful green eyes was far uglier than her acne. He also decided that he never wanted to come back to Bill Do'Dog's, even if that was pretty cheap for a twelve pack.

A five dollar bill was passed up, "Keep the change."

The cashier laughed at that, dark and low, and just kinda didn't stop laughing. Jason swiped the beer off the counter and held the door open for a mildly hasty exit. 

````````````````````````````````````````

Outside the late evening summer sun gazed hot and lazy against the weed infested asphalt. They traveled to the edge of the scraggly abandoned lot next door and settled in for a drink.

Oracle took a lively swig from her bottle, and swiped her face clean with a sleeve before turning to face Jason, "Man, how the Hell did you forget your age, I mean, forget it _that badly_. I'd forgive you if it was just one year off but I feel like it should have registered to ya by now."

Jason, being the dramatic bitch he is, flopped backwards into the dirt that lined the curb, "Ugh. Like your one to talk. I remember a certain birthday happening last month that you skipped your own surprise party for. Then you showed up a week later thinking it was for like... 2 birthdays ago."

"Ok, I concede that was the pot calling the kettle black. You know… if you've got the emotional energy, I have some actual deep reasons." Her voice turned mildly singsong, as she pretended to tempt him with an offer she expected him to revile, "Be happy to talk feelings with you."

Jason looked down the throat of his bottle for a second. He started to raise it to his lips but thought better of it and set it to the side, "I actually think some feeling talk would be good right now."

Oracle's eyes widened a bit in surprise, and then it settled into a proud smile, "I always knew you'd be smarter about this sort of thing than Bruce. But, to get down to the grit of it all, somehow, some-when, without realizing it; I stopped being able to imagine living past my twenties. The constant danger, all those near-death experiences, and the constant paranoia left me feeling like a mayfly. So, I'm here now at what? 30?"

"31 last I checked."

"Well shit. See, I hear my age and it feels unreal, saying that sounds like saying I'm 150, a part of my brain just is like 'Can humans even live that long???'"

Jason gave a huff in place of a laugh, "I know what you mean. I'm constantly either thinking I'm 14 or 80. I feel so _fucking young_ because this vast expanse of future just opened up in front of me. I could live for so much longer. But I'm also so much older than I ever thought I could be. Bit wiser too, now that I’m not still sloshin around in a fucking paranoia pit. I'm still alive and Hell. I'm ok. I might even go so far as to say I'm doing good."

"I'll toast to good." Barbra held out her drink towards him and he picked his bottle up to clink against hers.

He savored the taste, bit sharper than the normal stuff, bit less fizzy. The bottle made nice colours in the evening sun. He put the bottle down.

"I think most people would cringe at how low our toasting standards are." Jason scrunched his eyebrows together and watched as a driver pretended to know how to parallel park.

"Psssh. When have most people ever known what's good anyway? They're the same dumb fucks who invented the circus."

Jason bobbed his head in concession, "Fair point. Just don't let Grayson know you've been dissing circuses." Barbra chuckled in reply. 

On the other side of the parking lot the driver and a passenger stumbled out of the car Jason had been watching. A scene of good-natured debauchery played out between a chubby gal in layers of flannel and what at first glance appeared to be a very hairy woman in an 'I survived Gotham' t-shirt. Upon closer inspection, it turned out she was a well-groomed _satyr_ in an 'I survived Gotham' t-shirt.

Jason smiled as he glanced over towards them, "Ya know, I feel like I should be a lot more shocked by all this than I am."

"Yeah. Kinda makes me wonder when we all got used to the sheer amount of crazy in the world. Because I mean this?" She gestured across the way. The satyr and her girlfriend were doing their drunken best to sing and dance to Boney M's 'Rasputin' while the satyr rode piggy-back on the gal's shoulders, "It's just another Tuesday."

He squinted against the light in his eyes and tilted his head in consideration, "I don't think it ever really was something to get used to. Feel like it's always been this crazy for everyone and we all just got good at hiding it from each other. I mean who doesn't have at least one story no one would believe?"

"Yeah. Guess our crazy just got too big to hide." They both went quiet for a while. This still moment of calm skies and clear air felt as revelrous as the randy, dancing hooves opposite them.  
Eventually Oracle reached down to bump Jason on the shoulder, "Hey, mind helping me shift a bit? I can do it on my own but there's really no point in struggling when I've already got someone to help."

The casualness of that statement took Jason a little off guard. She asked for help so easily and often. He used to hate that about her, or maybe now that he thought about it he was jealous of her. Like she was taking too much, the same too much he had never allowed himself to ask for.

He would need to chew this thought for a while. Turn over the past a few times in his head to figure out just when and why he started rationing love like it was in dwindling supply. But for now:

He got up to give her a hand. "Sure, I'll just put this favor on your tab." Once she was comfortable, Jason sat back down and hesitated a moment before asking, "Hey, let me know if this is none of my business, but um… How is Tim doing?"

Oracle considered the question, letting out a long suffering sigh, "Well I mean, how are any of us doing? Stressed and trying to overwork the stress out of ourselves. But all things considered, I'd say he's doing ok. He's got a good head on his shoulders, smart about his own needs as well as his academics. I do wish he'd get more sleep though. If you want something more specific than that you'd have to ask him yourself."

He grimaced, "Do you think I should?" 

She gave him a look that was equal parts surprised, hopeful, and dubious, "Well aren't we emotionally bold today?"

He gave her a petulant tch, "Don't get me wrong, I don't like this shit any more than I used to, but I mean when you're stuck in a flooding sewer you either swim by _your_ choice or _the sewage's_ choice. Everything goes tits up the second I stop dealing with shit head on."

"I get your drift but also please don't say it like that. Gughk!" Her hair drifted into her face as she leaned forwards and stuck out her tongue. After swiping a hand across her face to get the hair out of her eyes she continued, "I also think you should go slow with this whole thing. Take your time with it. Do it right."

"I…" Jason paused while his pre-prepared defenses died on his lips, "Was honestly expecting you to say I was stupid for not doing this all like, 10 years ago."

She put a gentle hand on his wrist, "People like to say that talking fixes everything, and that's kinda bullshit. You have to understand how to talk about it, and what it even is before speaking does any good. It's not like we took vows of silence before now."

An image of Dick hogging the landline phone, blabbing away for hours on end popped into Jason's head, "Heh, that's true enough."

Barbra nervously chewed her lip for a second before continuing. When she did, the sudden honesty in her was scorching. The dark brown of her eyes were set alight into amber flames by the setting sun. When she spoke, that fire burned a course down from her words into Jason through her hand on his wrist. 

"I really do have hope for all of us Jason. But I need you to know that it's ok if you never come back. Some things just aren't worth fixing, and I can't tell you if this is one of those or not. But if you try to make amends with our dysfunctional little family it _has_ to be because you really want to, not because you feel like you should or you have to. I'll back your choice either way because at the end of the day, I don't think the wounds we have _can_ heal unless we stop pretending that being family is the same as being good for each other."

A swift breeze started up, tossing the leaves of nearby trees, which caused the fire in her eyes to flicker and sputter. Jason swallowed hard against a sudden push of tears from behind his eyes. He felt caught between the notion that crying would bring freedom and the old habit which said it would bring shame and misfortune.

Unable to commit fully to either one, his voice wavered a line inbetween, "I want to make this right. I want to be on better terms. But I feel like if they don't then I'm just gonna shatter and be right back where I was six years ago."

She gave him a tight, lopsided smile and gently squeezed his shoulder, "Dude. You were born into just about nothing but pain and neglect. You went from orphan to a life of constant fighting and dangers upon dangers. Then you went to Hell in a _way too literal_ sense and came back as a mob boss and after all that here you are. Toasting to good with me." 

She paused to take a deep calm breath, "You've been broken before, and you built yourself stronger. I don't think that could really break you. Don't even think they'd reject you. But if you wind up hurt again, I expect you'll make it back to good just fine."

Jason looked up into the darkening clouds above, "Thank you. I…" He lowered his gaze back down to her eyes, "I'll think about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad news is that my laptop died and I am not sure how much of the rough draft document I can recover. It's not a show stopping problem. Lot by a long shot. But it is def a show slowing problem.


End file.
